


Trust me, fuck me, love me

by PloKoon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kinky, Light Angst, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Past Sexual Abuse, Porn With Plot, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-03-30 20:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PloKoon/pseuds/PloKoon
Summary: There were a million thoughts on Sansas mind, but the main one was that she didn’t usually do this. And it was true, she didn’t, but then, most men were nothing like Jon, were they?It wasn’t her fault that he lived so close by.It wasn’t her fault that he got her so hot and bothered.It… It was kind of her fault that he was on his way over. She had, technically, invited him. But it was just because he was so hot and sweet and made her so impossibly wet…And he didn’t have to say yes, but he had.AU where Sansa accidentally finds Robbs best friend Jon on tindr and things run haywire. The truth is in the tags, enjoy.I meant to write smut, but now there's fluff and a plot and I don't know how it happened O.o(When needed, there will be trigger warnings)





	1. Accidentally Swiping Right

**Author's Note:**

> Things to keep in mind:
> 
> DD/LG: Daddy dom/Little girl -this is not the same as ageplay. Starts out as a pretty standard daddy kink, we'll see where it goes.
> 
> SSC: Safe, sane and consensual

Sansa was on her way home from uni, sitting in the back of the buss, going through her digital life on her phone. She was tired, the teacher's voice had been monotonous and her bag heavy with books. The lectures had driven her to scroll wikipedia to keep awake and the day felt a bit wasted, though she couldn’t find it in her to care much about that fact. There were other things on her mind.

Like, how many months was it since she’d last gotten laid? Four? And that last experience had been disappointing to say the least.

 

She’d stayed single for almost three years, very much on purpose. There was way too much going on in her life for a proper relationship at the moment and she wasn’t the type of person to enter into something half-heartedly. Besides, her last two boyfriends had been _horrible._

No, she liked doing things right, if she did them at all. But god, she needed to let off some steam, unwind, just _fuck_ , and her main issue when it came to that was that vanilla sex bored her to death.

Sansa was looking for a slut. A kinky one, preferably. There was only so much _she_ could do, even if there was no doubt she was good at pleasing herself.

Finding a guy was rarely the problem, but what she wanted was someone who was actually good at what they were doing and she got bored easily. Part of that was on her, sure, but far from all of it. She needed someone who could keep up with her.

She had a tindr profile, was on a few kink-forums, but all the good people were usually taken. The rest, well… They’d never even heard of the phrase safe, sane and consensual. Short story, on kink sites you met _idiots_  and on tindr you met vanilla, which could be fun from time to time but it wasn’t what she needed right now.

Maybe throwing in some code into her regular hookup profile could work, lest she made it too obvious?

SSC, perhaps a bit too discreet? Writing BDSM would be way _too_ obvious and she wasn’t into all that it contained anyway. DD/LG could work though... It was specific enough and if you didn’t know it, it would probably pass you by.

 

She pulled out her phone, opened the app and started editing her profile.

 

________________________________________________

 

**Sansa, 26**

 

Petrichor

Studies psychology and _will_ judge you

Don’t own a TV

Reads anything that sounds even remotely russian

Coffee > Life

 

DD/LG

SSC

 

_________________________________________________

 

-Finished editing-

 

She scrolled through a few profiles, but lost interest fast. The buss stopped, she stepped off, walking the short bit home.

 

Autumn had just hit, the leaves were turning red and rain hung heavy in the clouds above, but there was an umbrella in her bag and it always worked as a charm against it. The last heat of the summer had left with only a shadow of it still lingering, and thin, cold winds had started to blow. She pulled her black trenchcoat a little tighter around her, thanked her morning self for being sensible enough to put on a turtleneck, and hurried on home.

There weren’t any lectures tomorrow and though that meant that she didn’t need to go all the way over to uni, she still liked to try and stick to some kind of routine. She showered, brushed her teeth and went to bed with a book at 11 p.m. Adulting.

She answered a text from Arya that she’d ignored for about an hour, but she wasn’t feeling social just now. She’d been studying most of the day, her brain felt empty, and god she was _frustrated_.

The book was back on her nightstand before she’d even opened it. She turned the light off and pulled out her phone again.

 

She checked her fb and insta out of habit but it bored her half to death. With low expectations she opened tindr, swiped a few times and got a couple of matches but nothing she felt like starting a chat about.

 

And then his face showed up on the screen, and she almost jumped from where she sat.

 

___________________________________________________

 

**Jon, 29**

 

-Believe it or not, I’m not actually as worried as I look, it’s just my face

 

-If you’re really into tall guys, keep looking

 

-If my pup doesn’t like you it’s just not going to work between us

 

____________________________________________________

 

He had dark hair and grey eyes and looked just as dorky as he had when he’d been over to her parents house a lifetime ago. It was definitely Jon, Robbs old friend. Probably still his best friend, but she rarely met her brother so she couldn't be sure, and it must have been years ago since she last met Jon.

There was no doubt in her mind that she’d have remembered him if she had, because that boy had grown up to a very hot _man_. The glasses didn’t hurt either...

She swiped right before she could think twice about it, cursing under her breath for being impulsive.

When it matched her heart almost stopped and she lay blushing in the darkness of her own bedroom, in her own _home_ , and it felt _ridiculous_. She tossed the phone to the side and cursed again. So much for self control.

 

_Fuck it._

 

A moment later the phone buzzed and she stared at it in silent accusation but picked it up anyways.

One unopened message from Jon, 29. Should she ignore it? Should she wait? But he _knew_ she’d just swiped, _damn_ this modern technology all to _hell_. She was somewhere between thrilled and terrified and therefore had to open it.

 

**Jon:**

So I just swiped without thinking and now I feel super awkward and don’t know what to do but if I don’t write it’s somehow even worse, am I right?

...

Um, also hi!

 

She stared at the screen for a second before she burst into a loud, relieved giggle. Thank _god_ he was still the same, at least in that sweet, awkward way of his. He’d always been cute, she couldn’t deny that, even if he’d rarely spoken when she was around.

 

**Sansa:**

Hi!

Yeah I did pretty much the same thing… Guess we could ignore it if you want to?

A nervous minute went by and she had almost enough time to begin regretting what she’d written, even if she wasn’t sure why. Well, he _was_ hot.

 

**Jon:**

You’re really pretty though, so I’d rather not if you don’t.

 

...and so she was back to staring at the screen again. She sucked in a breath, anticipating, daring herself. Another minute went by before she answered.

 

**Sansa:**

I don’t.

 

**Jon:**

Oh thank god.

 

**Sansa:**

Yeah?

 

**Jon:**

_Yes._

 

**Sansa:**

So… You think I’m pretty?

 

**Jon:**

I mean, that’s not new, is it?

Though I couldn’t really tell you when your brother was around. I just assumed my awkward staring gave it away.

 

_Even the darkness couldn’t hide the smugness of her smile._

 

**Sansa:**

I guess.... But I always thought you were cute too, if it makes you feel any better.

 

**Jon:**

I’m glad to hear it x)

Speaking of your brother though...

 

**Sansa:**

You guys keep in touch? Haven’t seen you in a while.

 

**Jon:**

We meet up when we can, but between work and life it’s too seldom tbh.

 

**Sansa:**

He does tend to go off the radar most of the time.

So... we keep this to ourselves?

 

**Jon:**

Anything you want, but it’s probably the best idea atm.

 

Possibly the longest five minutes of her life went by before she’d gathered enough courage to answer again. Once more, just, _fuck it_.

 

**Sansa:**

…

Anything I want?

 

He replied instantly.

 

**Jon:**

Is this my cue to tell you that I know what DD/LG stands for?

 

A rush of heat radiated down from her chest, down over her abdomen, down towards-

 

**Sansa:**

_Yes daddy._

 

**Jon:**

Oh my sweet, sweet girl…

 

 *

 

There were a million thoughts running through Sansas mind, but the main one was that she didn’t usually do this. And it was true, she didn’t, but then most men were nothing like Jon, were they?

 

It wasn’t _her_ fault that he lived so close by.

It wasn’t _her_ fault that he got her so hot and bothered.

It… It _was_ kind of her fault that he was on his way over. She had,  _technically,_  invited him. But it was just because he was so hot and sweet and made her so impossibly wet…

And he didn’t _have_ to say yes, but he had.

 

_Dear fucking god._

 

It was 11.30 at night, and Sansa was getting dressed only to, hopefully, be undressed very shortly again. What the hell should she wear? And thank god she’d just cleaned her apartment.

Black, she though. Black always works. But she didn’t feel like trying too hard, though she wanted to be sexy, and she also desperately wanted to stop overthinking. She drew a deep breath.

Somehow, the fact that it was her brothers best friend barely crossed her mind, and she easily waved the thought away.

 

 _Screw_ consequence. _Damn it all to hell._

 

Black lace. A soft, tight black top and leggings that left extremely little to the imagination. But she felt like herself, confident, and that made it easier to feel sexy. (Sexy doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone, and this was hers). She tousled her hair a bit, put on mascara and rouge and that was it. Done.

 

He’d be there any minute.

How on earth was a minute so long?

What if he’d changed his mind?

 

Oh, and what would she do when he _did_ show up? But she felt the heat increase when she thought about it, and she knew what she wanted, and doubted that 20 minutes had changed his mind.

She ran a hand through her hair and smiled to herself, feeling a buzz go through her body. And then the intercom beeped, and she let him in, and soon there was a knocking at her door that made her cheeks hot again. She barely blinked before unlocking it and there he was, messy hair and flannel shirt and jeans and those _gorgeous_ eyes running all over her. Neither said hi, but the tension between them was all good.

 

“You wanna come in, or you just wanna keep staring?” There was more cheek in her voice than she’d expected, but it felt good too.

 

“Makes you blush really sweet though.” And she could have melted right then and there, but he did step inside, kicked off his shoes and walked up to her.

 

For a brief moment, Sansa could have sworn that the world had stopped right on its axis, she took in his scent, and a little bit of nervousness worked itself back into her. Or was it anticipation? It was hard to tell the difference.

 

“It’s been a while.” She gave a small shrug, trying to act relaxed and not give away just how much she wanted to get passed any possible smalltalk.

 

“Glad we found eachother again.” She dropped her gaze and looked him over. He was close and why were they just _standing_ here?

 

“You okay?” Jon let his hand caress her jawline, and she swallowed, meeting his eyes again.

 

“Yes daddy.”

 

She felt him stiffen against her and breathe out sharply. He looked her over, studied her face, and traced his thumb over her lips before he leaned in and gave her the softest kiss she might ever have received, and it burned against her.

 

“We need rules…” His voice was deep and low and so fucking tender it blew her mind. She blinked hard to regain any kind of focus.

 

“Yeah, um… No hard stuff. No safe words. Just ‘no’.” He nodded against her and ran a hand carefully through her hair.

 

“Of course. Tonight I just want to get to know you.” He smiled at her, and she felt safe and seen and all the good things. “And I want to take care of you… If you’ll let me.” She felt his breath against her skin and something in her shattered.

 

“Yes...” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, he nipped at her neck and she swallowed a shallow breath. “Just, _please_ Jon, don’t make me wait too long.”

 

Slowly, much too slowly for her liking, he ran his hands through her hair again, down over her back and let them rest on her hips and _tsked_ at her.

 

“I’ll never deny my girl a thing, but I will not be rushed.” _His_ girl. Hell yes, she wanted to be his girl right now. He grabbed her hips a little harder and the heat between her legs was getting close to painful. ”You got a good grip about my shoulders?” Sansa tightened it and he picked her up, and she locked her legs around his waist as he carried her over to the bed. His hardness pressed against her, and she let out a soft but clearly frustrated sigh.

Jon seemed to take no note of it whatsoever.

He put her down gently and she stared up at him as he removed his shirt. It was almost strange how comfortable everything felt, as in, not awkward, even if the situation in itself was starting to drive her another kind of crazy. How could he be so damn cool about it? Or maybe he was just better at acting than she was...

But she lay there, where he’d placed her, waiting, wanting so badly to be his good, _good_ girl.

And then he was back above her, and he kissed her so deeply that she forgot to breathe and when he ran his hand along the inside of her thigh she moaned into his mouth. The heat pulsed through her, it was getting increasingly difficult to think straight. He licked a strip up her neck, pausing by her jaw and gave her a final searching look.

 

“Still sure?” She swallowed hard, remembered to breathe, and gave a short nod.

 

“Yes daddy.” And he stiffened against her again but only for a second.

 

“You’re such a pretty girl, you know that?” Mouth back on her neck, he pulled her shirt down ever so slightly and bit her again, harder than before, and her thighs tightened around him.

 

“Yes daddy, you told me…” His right hand slipped down between her legs at that, pressed softly against her, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if her leggings were as wet as her underwear. He heaved a small sigh against her skin, and she tilted her head back, arching slowly into him.

 

“You’re absolutely perfect.” But to her great dismay, his hand left her and went back up to her waist. “Let’s get this off you, shall we?” And Sansa obeyed, leaned up and relieved herself of her shirt. Her leggings followed shortly, and his hands were everywhere, everywhere but where she wanted them the most and he knew, because the smile he gave her was _teasing_.

 

“What can I do?” Her voice was smaller than she’d wanted it to be, but he looked at her as though she’d offered him the world.

 

“Be a good girl and lay back.” Once more with that soft, low voice that had her spellbound, and she did as he bid her. He took her in, every inch of her, and that damned blush came back.

 

He leaned in to kiss her and she drank his heat and the wetness of his mouth and felt him _pant_ into her mouth when he traced her sex through her panties, and she could have died happy then and there.

 

“Please…” Her voice was a whisper against his skin. “Please daddy… I need you.” And as he searched her eyes she realized that he couldn’t be far from losing it too.

 

“Sweetheart…” He pulled down the thin lacey fabric and she pressed herself flush against him, but he put a gentle hand against her thigh and pushed her back to the bed again. “Try and relax, will you?”

 

_Pleading her._

 

There was sex, and then there was _this_. As it were, Sansa was good at sex, and she wasn’t inexperienced as such, but that being said nothing had prepared her for this. Or rather, for _him,_ and she felt a genuine surprise at that.

He kissed her again, harder, deeper, as he undid her bra and tossed it gods knew where. He was still in his jeans and she tried to undo them but he wouldn’t let her and it was driving her mad, and she whined against him, but it only made his smile wider.

And then he disappeared, descending on her body, placing wet, open mouthed kisses wherever he went, biting her in all the right places until she barely knew where she was anymore.

And then his hands were on the insides of her thighs.

And then his mouth was kissing the edges of her cunt and she knew, she _knew_ that she was lost before he’d even begun to touch her properly. But god, through the white noise that filled her head, he did it anyways, and she arched into him again and he let his tongue go everywhere. Her eyes snapped wide open as a sharp heat blurred her vision.

 

“Jon…” She held her breath, felt his hot against her as he hummed a response but he didn’t _stop,_ and she quivered in his hands and when he pushed two fingers inside her she heard him let out a short, hard sigh as she tightened hard around them. _"Fuck… Daddy.”_

 

She wasn’t sure if her heart had stopped beating or if it was running wild.

She barely remembered her own name but she knew his, and she never wanted him to stop. And yet...

 

“Yes baby?” And he couldn’t hide how strained his voice was.

 

_"Fuck me daddy."_

 

For a second, he was perfectly still between her legs and all she felt was the orgasm rip through her. Then she felt his heat disappear, her body protesting, saw him stand up by the bed, kicking his jeans off and pulling his white t-shirt over his head. And _finally,_ he was just as naked as she was.

He came down over her like a shadow, hunting, and in the dim light she felt more than saw how his chest heaved and when he was between her legs again, hard and pressing against her, she almost lost it.

 

“Tell me baby…” He pulled her down on the bed and lowered his face until it almost touched hers. “Tell me sweetheart, how you want daddy to fuck you.” Sansa ran her hands through his curls and he shivered, grabbed her hips but didn’t, _didn’t..._

 

 _“Hard.”_ He traced his hand back to her cunt, carefully slid his fingers back in and _curled_ them into that sweet spot that pushed her over the edge, or, did it just continue the rush? It was too hard to tell.

 

“Like this?” Oh he was torturing her, but it was so sweet and she couldn’t stop herself from moaning.

 

“Un… yes… no? Daddy you’re so _mean.”_  But she sighed out the words, and if ever she'd thought that she was a tease....

 

“No? Do you want me to... stop?” And he did, and she wanted to scream at him but she didn’t.

 

And then a flicker of reality crossed her mind.

 

“Wait.” Jon stiffened, completely attentive.

 

“Yes, are you okay?” He watched her carefully and she smiled up at him, eyes glazed and _so fucking happy_.

 

“Yeah. Just, wait.” She reached over to the night stand and rummaged through the top drawer with one hand, finally finding the holy grail in a pack of condoms. “This.” And she felt him shudder in relief.

 

 _“Holy hell._ I’m sorry, but you scared me half to death.” And they laughed, like, a really sweet laugh, and he looked at her like no other man ever had, she was sure of it.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” She sat up and took his face in her hands and when she kissed him it was almost chaste. Then she ran her hands down his back and gave him the most innocent look she could muster. “Now _please_ …” And she made a real effort to purr at him. _“Fuck me daddy.”_

 

He drew a strained breath and blinked hard a couple of times, ran a hand through his hair and regained focus.

 

“One second. Hand me that.” As he put the condom on she felt herself tremble, because this _had_ to mean that he was about to take her, right?

 

He hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled her towards him, kissed her thigh and she felt his heat radiate onto her, into her, drowning her thoughts out.

 

“This okay?” She sighed a response and gave a slight nod.

 

“Put them up as far as you like, I do yoga.” And he chuckled against her as he put her legs over his shoulders.

 

 _“Of course_ the perfect girl does yoga… you’re going to be the death of me.” Through his almost disbelieving smile, she could tell that he was about to let go of his restraint and she gave him a cheeky smile, because there was something so fucking _satisfying_ about driving a man like him over the edge. _Just a little more..._

 

“Daddy?” Her voice was light and dreamy and she felt his grip on her legs grow harder and then, and then _finally_ -

 

He didn’t slam into her, not really, but it was hard and a bit rough and so damn _perfect_ that she lost it within seconds. He looked down on her face with hazy eyes, bending forward slightly and the strain in her thighs was sharp for a moment but she didn’t care and she just wanted, just wanted it-

 

“Harder?” His voice was different, deep, needy, and so sexy she didn’t know what to do with herself. She reached to touch him, but her fingers barely skimmed his chest. He'd read her like an open book.

 

_"Harder daddy.”_

 

Her hands fell back onto the bed and his eyes opened again, watching her grip at the sheets or blankets or whatever she had around her.

 

“I did tell you that I never could deny you anything…”

 

He took a second to readjust, hooked her knees a little further over his shoulders, lifted her about an inch over the mattress, and all she could do was stare at him in trance. And then he did slam into her, and with all the air escaping her lungs her moan was more of a gasp.

And he fucked her, he fucked her so good she thought she was ruined for anyone else, ever.

Her hands found their way to her breasts and he groaned but his eyes never left hers for more than a second, and it was intense, his way of looking at her, and she felt herself clenching harder around him.

 

“I… I can’t...” And he really did sound desperate now. She gave an almost giggle through her panting.

 

 _“Then don’t.”_ Her voice was low, thin, _raw_ , and apparently just what he craved.

 

He let her legs slide down and leaned into her, licked her throat, bit it, grasped her hips and thrusted shallow beats into her. She forgot to breathe, _he_ forgot to breathe, and he smelled like white musk and _her_ and sex and...

She lost it again but this time, Sansa wasn’t alone.

His final thrust into her was harder and then he held her there, tight against him with their bodies wet and burning locked together. But his hands were soft on her and he kissed her, up her neck and her throat and jawline and found her mouth and their kiss was sweet and sticky.

When she looked at him she felt a strange sense of wonder go through her, like it had to be too good to be true and yet  _here he was_. He looked like he thought the same through his hooded eyes, giving her a small smile, but neither said anything.

He more fell to her side than anything else, and she clung to him like she needed him in order to live. More kisses, and he wrapped his arms around her, and they undid the messes of their hair.

God, he was beautiful to look at.

She ran her hands through his dark curls and he closed his eyes and purred into her, and she never wanted him to leave. Why should he?

 

“Don’t go yet.” Her voice was a whisper, but it was more than enough in the silence.

 

“Then I won’t.” He kissed her forehead, undoing himself from her embrace and she registered confusion at the edge of her mind. “Just have to set an alarm.”

 

Oh. That made sense.

 

“Mmh.” The blue light from the screen illuminated his face harshly and he squinted at it.

 

“It’s almost one am.” She sat up groggily and leaned her back against the headboard.

 

“You got work tomorrow?” He shrugged.

 

“That’s not important, I can flex a couple of hours.” Sansa giggled.

 

“I bet you can.” He gave her a crooked smile.

 

“Cheeky.” The phone went dark and only a weak street light shone in through the half-closed blinds. “I have to get home to my pup in the morning though, or he’ll get cranky with me.” She raised her brows and his tindr profile came back to her.

 

“Cranky?” He found the blanket somewhere halfway down on the floor and pulled it up around them, and she slid down next to him.

 

“Yeah, he’s a real character.” His arms found their way back around her and she hid her face in the nook of his neck.

 

“What kind?” God, he felt good against her.

 

“Siberian husky. All white, ice blue eyes. Pray he likes you.” She gave a soft laugh.

 

“Or it won’t work between us?” He kissed her cheek and pulled her closer, if it was possible.

 

“Mmh.”

 

Somewhere along the way their heartbeats started to match, and a heavy sleep fell over them.

 

*

 

Unavoidable, stark and menacingly early, the morning spread its pale light through the window. His alarm went off at six am, and there was a moment's confusion as they came back to their senses. Hair messy, naked and still drunk on sleep, their eyes met somewhere along the way and Sansa blushed as the memory of the night before washed over her. His neck looked properly bruised, and she wondered in passing at what her own body might look like.

 

She regretted nothing.

 

If possible, he was even cuter in this light than he’d been yesterday. An absolutely shameless smile painted her face and he looked surprisingly shy, running a hand through his hair, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes. She climbed across the bed, kissed his shoulder and could have sworn that he was blushing as well, lord have mercy on her.

 

“Morning.” She nudged him gently, and he kissed her cheek, adorably confused.

 

“Morning.”

 

There was a moment of silence, not tense as such, where she gave him a minute to collect his thoughts. She found more marks on his skin and the memories of how they got there warmed her chest.

 

“Hey…” His voice was low and raw and told her that he was definitely not a morning person. “You’re still way too pretty.” Her blush deepened, but then, so did his, and he kissed her softly, and she melted into him.

 

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but after a while his alarm went off again and he had to pull away.

 

“God I hate that thing.” She heaved a sigh, got to her feet and pulled on her t-shirt and panties. He was still sitting on the other side of the bed, watching her as she went out towards the kitchen. “I’m making coffee, want some before you go?”

 

“Absolutely.” He ran a hand over his face, put on his glasses, pulled on his shirt and boxers and went after her.

 

He leaned against the doorway, ever watching her, saying nothing. After last night though, she had a hard time feeling embarrassed about it.

 

“Bathroom's through that door,” she pointed absentmindedly. “There’s fresh towels on a shelf by the sink etcetera.” She leaned against the counter, waiting for the black drink of life to get ready. But he just stood there, smiling his quirky smile, the silence between them almost a bit too comfortable.

 

“Would it be too forward to ask for your number?” She stared at him in surprise for a split second before they burst out laughing. He walked up to her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and bumped his nose against hers. “I’d still like to get to know you, if you’re up for it.”

 

The coffee started to drip somewhere to her right and she batted her lashes at him like a schoolgirl.

 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

They had their coffee, showered together and tried to make it as practical as possible, even if it was undoubtedly too small for two people. When he was all dressed up and ready to go she was still in her towel, and when he was by the door she actually _sighed_.

 

“Alas, there’s a Ghost in my apartment that needs to get out.” Damned his teasing.

 

“Yeah yeah…” But he just hugged her close and kissed her cheek and she caught his mouth with hers and they just stood there, perfectly still for a moment.

 

“I’ll see you soon.” She kissed him one last time for good measure.

 

“You know where to find me.”

 

And then he left, taking all the heat with him, and she climbed back into bed. Jons scent was all around her and it enveloped her as she fell back asleep.

 

*

 

When she woke up a few hours later, and before she opened her eyes, she could almost imagine that he was there, even if his weight was missing. Her alarm clock said that it was almost noon but she couldn’t care less. She reached for her phone, saw the condom wrapper on the floor next to the bed and smiled so smugly she thought her face might split in two.

Two new texts, one from Arya, one from Jon.

 

________________________________________

 

**Arya:**

Lunch 1pm at the usual place? My class got cancelled and I’m in town.

 

**Sansa:**

I’ll be there.

 

_______________________________________

 

She didn’t have anything important to do today anyhow, she could study in the afternoon, and she hadn’t seen Arya for a couple of weeks. She’d need to wear something with a high collar though, Jon had left marks all over her. Not that Sansa minded, but she didn’t feel like explaining anything to her sister, at least not today.

 

_______________________________________

 

**Jon:**

-picture of Ghost-

_He wasn’t happy._

Next time, you come over here.

 

**Sansa:**

Just say when.

 

Approximately 30 seconds later:

 

**Jon:**

I’ll hold you to that...

 

_Butterflies._

 

She knew that she needed to get up, but he still lingered around her and it felt so good it had to be sinful.

 

**Sansa:**

Just don’t leave me hanging.

 

A few minutes passed by before her phone buzzed again.

 

**Jon:**

Coffee on saturday, the place around the corner?

 

**Sansa:**

Perfect, see you there. Elevensies?

 

**Jon:**

Looking forward to it.

 

______________________________________________

 

_Butterflies._

 

She shook her head to clear her mind and climbed out of bed to get dressed.

 

*

 

Sitting on the subway she pulled out her phone again, checking her regular feed. When she came to tindr she furrowed her brows slightly. It felt kind of weird to see it there, glaring at her from the screen.

 

_One night._

 

It had taken him _one night_  and she was already stuck.

As though needing to prove that she didn’t have any problems with the thought that he might be checking others out, she pressed the icon, and it loaded slowly. Her internet was always dragging when she was underground.

Their conversation was till there, less than 24 hours old. But his face was gone. She pressed the grey, empty icon, but it didn’t respond. She pressed it again, nothing.

A full on _swarm_ of butterflies came back to her. If she’d had any self control, she’d leave it at that, but she couldn’t, and pulled up his text again.

 

____________________________________________

 

**Sansa:**

You’re strangely absent from tindr?

 

A good twenty minutes went by, but her phone buzzed just as she stepped off the train.

 

**Jon:**

Strangely?

 

She waited another minute, but nothing else came. Staring at the screen she felt at a loss for words, but she knew she needed to write something.

 

**Sansa:**

I just won the “most awkward texting” award, didn’t I?

 

**Jon:**

No.

But I can’t keep more than one thing on my mind at once.

And I don’t want to jinx it, but right now that’s you.

 

She read his text over and over, wondering what strange stars had aligned to make this happen. And then she heard Aryas voice in the distance, and she couldn't be texting him in case she saw it.

 

_Dammit._

 

**Sansa:**

I’m the same.

And I can’t wait to see you.

 

_______________________________________


	2. Lacuna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I almost feel a need to apologize, this chapter is just plot.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Ah, finally, a place to just let the smut run free.
> 
> Also me: *Writes 15 pages of plot* How did that get there?
> 
> Wrote the second chapter, but it's too long so I split it in two. The kinky stuff will be in chapter 3, which should be published shortly, just need to proofread etc. because bad grammar kills it for me.
> 
> And thank you all for the reviews I've gotten, I really had no idea of what to expect O.o

Once beyond a certain boundary, it’s almost disturbing how little the consequences matter and you reason that you might as well push it further.

If you cross the Rubicon, why not march on Rome itself?

And, for example: If you fuck the little sister of your best friend who is basically like a brother to you, and you’ve already decided to keep it behind his back, there is little to stop you from doing it again.

 

Another thing that lured in the back of Jons mind was the strange lack of regret or any kind of anxiety about the situation. Of course, the thought of going behind Robbs back wasn’t exactly great, but he had no qualms _whatsoever_ about last night. Should he?

He didn’t seem to have it in him.

 

He wasn’t entirely sure of how he got there, but around 7 am that thursday morning Jon put the key in the lock to his apartment before he half _fell_ in through the door. Straight before him, laying on the floor and definitely sulking, a huge white pup stared up at him with sharp blue eyes.

Jon was absolutely convinced that he was judging him.

He knelt down, reached out his hand, but Ghost took no note of him.

 

“Fine. Be that way.” About halfway through hearing food pour into his bowl Ghost skulked in and sat down in the doorway, but he didn’t eat. “Well this is new.” Jon crouched down again, ran a hand through the soft fur and seemed to finally be forgiven. “Guess I smell weird, huh?”

 

When they went out on their walk the wind was sharp and blowing the clouds hurriedly across the sky. No frost yet, but it was only a matter of time and he looked forward to it. The park was more or less deserted and he liked that better as other dogs had a tendency to want to ‘prove their courage’ against his gentle giant. Irresponsible bloody owners.

It was kind of sad, Ghost really liked to socialize, but the sheer size of him usually freaked people out and so they walked around him. Poor boy. Perhaps there was some kind of Husky meetup nearby?

The further they walked, the more his mind drifted. When they came to their usual halfway stop there was a tug at the leash and he looked down, and he knew he was being judged again. This pup was way too smart for his own good.

 

“Okay, let’s go home then.”

 

God he felt good though.

There wasn’t a tense muscle in his body, and though he was a few hours short on sleep he barely noticed. Several times he caught himself smiling at nothing in particular.

Yesterday he’d been nervous as hell, on the edge of falling apart when he walked over to her, but once he was there and he saw the way she looked at him, and that _damn blush_... She was just as sweet as he’d remembered her and his mind had gone blank.

How many years had it been since he’d last seen her, five, maybe six? A lifetime ago at a Christmas party, he was pretty sure about that. He’d figured that teenage crush was long forgotten but it had returned in full force the second he set eyes on he again.

 

As though he was still an 18 year old shy nerd who had no idea why an extrovert like Robb had picked him for a best friend, and Sansa was always there in the background, giggling with one of her friends.

As though time had stood perfectly still and they’d just been waiting for the right moment.

As though it was the most obvious thing in the world that it _would_ happen.

 

Because that’s what it had felt like, and there was something so incredibly satisfying about it, even if the awkward dork that still lived in him could scarcely believe it. If he’d cared he might have felt embarrassed, but that was very far from his mind this morning.

There was a pull in his chest and it filled with heat.

She was such a sweetheart, _way_ too cute for him to keep his head on straight. She had to know that, right? He’d never been able to put on a decent poker face in his life and he heaved a sigh.

_Yeah, he was screwed alright._

 

Back home again he changed out of his flannel and jeans into black slacks and a grey shirt, pulled on a pair of dr. marten’s and left for work.

...and sent Sansa a text, because he couldn’t help himself.

 

The best way to get to said job was on an ancient, rattling tram, lovingly nicknamed the ‘polar express’ by the locals. With Pearl Jam blasting from his headphones he scrolled through the local news but things were as uneventful as ever, and he couldn’t really focus on reading them anyway.

He had no idea of how he was supposed to get through the day with the memories of last night constantly flashing through his mind. Her face, her eyes, her hair. The softness of her skin against his hands.

 _The sound of her voice, begging him to fuck her_.

He pressed the tindr icon and reread their conversation for the upteenth time, trying to will the trembling heat from his system. How the hell had he dared to write the things he had? In all honesty, he wasn’t that sure he’d been completely conscious as he’d done it, but it had worked, so maybe it didn’t matter so much. And she’d hardly been the image of innocence either...

The picture she used for her profile must have been taken recently because she looked almost exactly like it, and she was smiling, a real smile that reached all the way up her eyes. She’d smiled just like that, for _him_ , when he’d left her only a few hours ago.

Oh _god_ , why was he doing this to himself?

 

His phone buzzed in his hand, a message from Sam.

 

_________________________________

 

**Sam:**

_Where the heck are you?_

**Jon:**

On my way.

 

**Sam:**

I thought you might have died, what’s up?

 

**Jon:**

It’s about a girl. Tell you later.

 

**Sam:**

_I can not believe you right now._

 

_________________________________

 

When he had seen her face flash over the screen last night he’d done a double take, but there could only be one Sansa in the world that looked like that. Mischievous, beautiful, all red hair and blue eyes and just so fucking pretty... Like he remembered her, still different, and very much not a giggly teenager anymore. He had no idea of how long he’d been looking at her before he chose to act but his mind was made up from the second he realized it was her.

So, contrary to what he’d told her, he hadn’t swipe right by accident at all.

It was just that his old shyness had kicked in way too hard but he'd _had_ to write, he knew that he’d regret it forever if he didn’t. And if they’d met again further down the line the awkwardness would’ve been very real. The sheer _relief_ of her answering had meant everything and passed that first wall things just kinda happened, nervousness gone with the wind.

That said, nothing in his mind had prepared him for what actually followed that night. He doubted anything could, even if he’d tried.

 

Like, how warmly familiar it felt to see her again.

Or how in sync they were.

Or how perfectly they fit against each other.

...or how well their kinks matched, and a shiver went down his spine, and his mind shattered into a thousand blistering little pieces.

_Fuck._

 

The screen had gone dark, and he tapped it again.

Screenshots, then he deleted the entire app from his phone. He wasn’t going to use it anymore, might as well get rid of it and be honest with himself. He was pretty much ruined for other women, at least for now and why pretend? If she decided against seeing him again he wouldn’t blame her, but he’d need some time to bounce back from this. And anyhow, he very much had a one track mind.

He watched as the scenery changed outside of the window; how the groves of maples and birches and pines grew into forests, spots of open fields and lakes scattered between them. Hardly any people lived out here.

If he hadn’t known Sansa from before, would he still have written her? He wanted to say yes, but in truth, he probably hadn’t, and it wasn’t just because her love of Russian literature was oddly specific.

He’d installed it about six months ago, though more as a fun thing than anything else. For as awkward as he was, he _was_ actually better at flirting in person. He’d chatted a little but still preferred to do it the old fashioned way: Get a bit wasted, spill some corny pick-up lines and just _get on with it_ , even if he was getting increasingly sick of it.

But how often did your crush from a hundred years ago appear out of nowhere just like that? And with what seemed to be matching, um, _interests_ , for the lack of a better word. Some chances were worth taking, for all the reasons. The fact that he might have been risking a lifelong friendship with Robb in order to hit on his little sister, Jon pushed _very_ far back into his mind.

He closed his eyes, leaned his head back and sank into a moment of sweet recollection before a hissing of metal against metal told him that he’d reached the end of the line. The playlist switched over to Nirvana and he turned the volume up but it did little to bring his attention back to reality.

_This was going to be an awful long day._

 

*

 

The ranger station was about a minutes walk from the tram stop. Sitting outside with a cup of coffee in one hand and phone in the other, Sam was just ending a call when Jon walked up to him. They greeted with a hug.

 

“That Gilly?” Jon took off his headphones and joined him on the bench. They still had a few minutes left on their morning break and neither of them felt a rush to go inside to the wall of paperwork that awaited them.

 

“Yeah.” He took a sip from his cardboard mug. “So… you haven’t taken out any flex time in almost a year.” There was something about his voice that made Jon feel like a deer caught in the headlights of a moving vehicle.

 

“Uh, yeah?” Sam raised his eyebrows and gave him a teasing look.

 

“Well, you look a little bruised.” Jon frowned slightly, not quite following, and Sam made a gesture over at his neck, chuckling softly.

 

“Oh.” And he was pretty sure he was going to die on the spot.

 

“I’m only messing with you, just a little.” But he did up his collar all the same.

 

“Does it actually cover it?”

 

“If you pull it up a bit.”

 

“Like this?” Just a tad uncomfortable. Sam shrugged.

 

“Yeah, probably, just be mindful of it. Not that I get what’s so embarrassing about it.” Jon was in complete denial about any redness on his cheeks.

 

 _“I did this thing I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to but I don’t care.”_ He let it out in a single breath, leaving Sam with a somewhat confused expression.

 

“Huh. Well, you have rounds this afternoon, I’ll make up a reason to tag along, tell me more then?” Jon nodded and drew in another breath.

 

“Yeah, sounds good.”

 

Sam threw his cup in the trash and they went inside, Jon feeling no motivation whatsoever.

 

*

 

Arya waved at her, a tad of annoyance mixed into her smile, but it turned to full happiness as soon as Sansa put her phone away. She hugged her close.

 

“Are you in there?” Great, Arya was already teasing her.

 

“Yeah, it was just…” Sansa was not going to lie to her sister, but wasn’t about to spill the details either. “I needed to clear some things up, sorry to keep you waiting.” Close enough? Arya gave her a queer look.

 

“Uhuh. _Sure_.” Damn her.

 

“Yeah.” God, could she sound any less convincing? She wasn’t used to lying anymore, especially not to her family.

 

“Look, the only time I’ve ever seen you look at anything like that was when Loras walked by our house when we still lived at home and he was still in the closet and-”

 

“Fine! A guy! I had to clear some things up with a guy! Now get off my back dammit.” Sedated, at least for the moment, Arya shrugged and took Sansa under the arm. They climbed up the stone stairs in silence, past the graffitied walls and stepped out into the crisp autumn air. “You’re an annoying brat, but I missed you.”

 

“Right back at you Sans.”

 

Their favourite place was located at the end of a busy street, a Dornish hole-in-the-wall with tall skinny windows and a partially functioning, weakly glowing neon sign that should have spelled ‘The Water Gardens’.

 

“We could sit in a park if it’s too crowded in there. I think I’d rather.” Arya shrugged in response.

 

They got their food, found a bench and started eating their sweet and spicy pumpkin stew. The sun was still warm, leaves on the trees turning technicolour red and yellow and orange. A V of birds flew across the sky.

 

“So I met this guy.” And Arya, never once having brought home a single person for her family to meet, (or rather, judge), said it as though she was talking about the weather. Sansa looked at her, mildly perplexed.

 

“An actual person?” She wasn’t about to let this perfect opportunity to tease her sister slip out of her hands. Arya _blushed_.

 

“Yeah. He’s a bit too sweet for me, but maybe I need that.” Sansa put her plastic fork down and stared, really stared at her.

 

“Are you quite well?” She got an awkward giggle in response. “Never mind, you’re clearly a poor clone of sorts. What have you done with my real sister?”

 

“He’s a welder. Works deep under water sometimes, just got back from the riggs outside of Bear Island.” Sansa demonstratively put her carton down and pushed Arya on the shoulder.

 

“When?! How do I never get to know anything?”

 

“Calm down, you’re the first person I’m telling!” But Arya was still blushing through her frown.

 

“You should have told me sooner!”

 

“Well I wasn’t sure if there was still something between us after he returned! He was gone for half a year.” And Arya smiled a kind of smile that was new to Sansa, and she thought that her sister actually seemed to be in love.

 

It was all exceptionally strange.

 

“Okay, so…” Sansa took a deep breath. “How long have you known each other?”

 

“About a year and a half. We met in King’s Landing when I was competing in the fencing tournament. After I beat him in a match he asked me out, and bravery like that ought to be rewarded so I said yes.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Yeah...” Aryas eyes were dreamy and Sansa decided that this couldn’t be the end of their conversation.

 

“How about we pick up some wine and go to my place?”

 

“That sounds really good actually.”

 

*

 

Jon and Sam walked along an old deer path, making one of their regular rounds, and Jon thoroughly enjoyed the lack of other people around them.

 

“You know Robb?”

 

“I know him from the pub, yeah.” Sam gave him a crooked smile. “Wait, he the one you hooked up with?” Jon stopped in his tracks and glared at him.

 

“What the, _no!_ We’re like brothers, you know that!” Sam shrugged at him, still smiling.

 

“Well he’s handsome enough, I wouldn’t have judged you.” He ran a hand over his face, thoroughly exasperated.

 

 _“It’s not him._ And I said it was about a girl.”

 

“Much unlike yourself, I don't presume gender! But fine, so who’s the lucky... person?”

 

“His little sister.” God, his voice was way smaller than he’d expected it to be. Sam didn’t seem nearly as fazed as he’d thought he would.

 

“So, you hooked up with your best friends little sister.” It was almost painful to hear him say it.

 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did.”

 

“And now you regret it?”

 

“Not one bit. I mean, I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel ashamed. But I just... don’t.” He heaved a sigh as though his soul came out with it, but Sam didn’t look worried.

 

“Then what’s your problem? Afraid her brother’s going to find out?”

 

“I doubt he will unless we tell him, so not really.” Sam frowned slightly and gave him a quizzical look.

 

“So exactly _what_ is your problem?”

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen again and the next time I see her brother I’ll feel like such a… I’ll feel horrible. Seeing his sister behind his back.” Sam heaved a sigh. “Look, it’s the ‘behind his back’-thing that bothers me.”

 

“Are you both proper adults?” Jon frowned at him.

 

“Yeah, what the hell do you think about me?” Sam rolled his eyes.

 

“It was rhetorical, calm down. Now, you’re two consenting adults. _Neither_ of you have any obligation whatsoever to tell _anyone_. And if her brother feels like he somehow needs to protect her ‘honour’ or whatever, maybe he should step out of the middle ages. She’s a free woman.”

 

And Jon looked at his friend, seeing him in a new light, a bit surprised but definitely thankful. He made it sound so obvious and sensible though he had a nagging feeling that even if it might be the truth, Robb would see things _somewhat_ differently.

 

“You have a sister.” He said finally, merely implying the question, and Sam nodded, looking down at his checklist.

 

“I do. And I don’t interfere in her life unless she’s unhappy or I think she might be getting hurt. And even then, I can’t exactly _force_ her to accept my help. The best thing I can do is to make sure that she knows I’m always here for her.” He met Jons eyes again, calm, completely nonplussed. “And that clearly applies to more than just who she’s dating. She’s my sister, I care about her, and that is that.” Jon ran a hand through his hair and stared out into the forest.

 

“And what if it would have been _your_ sister I was seeing?” Sam furrowed his brows.

 

“Look. I’m going to make one thing very clear.” Jon wasn’t sure quite what to expect, but as he met Sams eyes again, he was looking at him as though he was about to explain something to a child. “The only time I’d care would be if you hurt her. Honestly I think it’d be _way_ more awkward if I knew you were seeing her, eh, let’s call it _casually._ It would change things between us because then I _would_ worry about both of you. Let’s not pretend that things are easy when you start seeing someone. I don’t even want to think about what I would do if you were fighting.” He took a deep breath. “And if things went well and you actually started dating properly it wouldn’t make me sad that two of my favourite people in the world had found happiness in each other.”

 

Jon had no idea of what to answer, but maybe that was okay.

 

“Thank you.” Sam gave him a warm smile, nudging his shoulder and Jon felt a wave of relief wash over him.

 

“Just one more thing”.

 

“Shoot.”

 

“You’ve met her once?” And now he was looking at him that way, as though he could read his mind, and it always freaked the heck out of Jon.

 

“Yeah. Just started talking to her yesterday.” Sam seemed to have become very interested in checking the boxes on his list again.

 

“Well… it’s an awful lot of worry for something casual, isn’t it?” Jon felt his cheeks tingle ever so slightly. “Bet you fancied her once.” He sighed.

 

“Oh you know, only all the way through my teenage years, basically. But I was so awkward back then...” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, Sam merely nodding at him.

 

“Better be careful then. I really mean that.” Jon put his glasses back on. He knew caution had gone out the window the second he’d set eyes on her again.

 

*

 

“So, what about the guy you were texting earlier?” Arya sipped her wine.

 

“What about him?”

 

“Well, he made you grin like a fool, didn’t he? Is it something serious?” _Serious like a minor heart attack._

 

“We’ve… we’ve met once. And we have some kind of casual date planned for saturday.”

 

“Oh? How does it feel?” It was a bit weird to talk to Arya like this, serious, more… adult?

 

“I don’t know. It’s, uh, I mean I just met him.” _Real smooth that one._

 

“I don’t mean to pry, but…” Arya chose her words as carefully as she could before she answered. “Look, I just care about you, okay? I’m going to assume that you’re careful.” And Sansa was well aware of what she was hinting at, grateful that she didn’t mention them outright.

 

“He’s nothing like them.” Though Arya didn’t seem convinced, frowning slightly.

 

“How do you know that? I thought you’d only met him once?” She inwardly cringed, because that bit technically wasn’t true.

 

“I just know. Trust me. But don’t tell anyone, we’re just friends with benefits for now.”

 

“Wait.” Arya put her glass down and smirked at her. “You’ve met him once and you already have benefits?”

 

Damned be this wine.

 

“Are you going to get all judgy on me now?” But Arya just shrugged.

 

“No, but I need details! What does he look like, what does he do, do I know who he is?” Oh god, how was she going to get out of this one?

 

“I’m not giving you all that! But…” She had another go at her drink. “He’s cute as hell and you _have_ met him and that’s all I’m going to give you.”

 

“I’ve met him?” Arya thought hard for a second but gave up surprisingly easy. “Did I like him?”

 

And Sansa thought of all the times Jon had been over, how he’d played video games with them and helped Arya with homework, and encouraged her to fence when their parents had seemed sceptical about a girl having it for a hobby. She’d forgotten about that until now, and a smile crept over her lips.

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“Well this just makes it weirder! Why won’t you tell me who it is already?”

 

“That’s pretty rich coming from someone who kept their guy a secret for over a year!” Arya opened her mouth to respond, snapping it shut when she realised she’d lost.

 

“Dammit!”

 

*

 

They’d had a bit too much wine, that was certain, but Sansa felt good and confident in that reckless way that only Baccus could bring her. Her body tingled, cheeks tinted pink and eyes sparkling, mind drifting helplessly back to last night.

She pulled her phone out without a second thought.

Was it okay to drunk text him the day after? _And did she care?_ Worst case scenario, he’d say no or was already sleeping. The risk that someone else was already there, she pushed very far back in her mind.

 

_________________________________

 

**Sansa:**

Heya

You awake?

 

The answer came a couple of minutes later and she felt a buzz go through her body that wasn’t related to the alcohol.

 

**Jon:**

In theory... What’s up?

 

**Sansa:**

Nothing much, Arya just left.

You about to sleep?

 

**Jon:**

Nah it’s all good, I’m stuck in a book.

 

**Sansa:**

…

Which one?

 

**Jon:**

Do you want the truth or should I make up something cooler?

 

**Sansa:**

Truth, I wanna judge you.

 

**Jon:**

Eh, okay.

I’m re-reading Hamlet.

 

It took Sansa all of ten seconds to make up her mind before she texted him back.

 

**Sansa:**

_That’s depressing._

You want me to come save you?

 

**Jon:**

Real smooth, I’ll give you that.

Is it safe to assume that this some kind of booty call?

 

**Sansa:**

_100%_

 

**Jon:**

Come find me and I’ll buzz you up.

 

**Sansa:**

_Sweet._

I’m there in 20.

 

_________________________________

 

Her makeup was fine, but she changed her shirt to something with more cleavage. She traced the marks he’d made yesterday, wondering if there’d be more of them come morning. She really hoped there would be.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, the message was his address, and she felt as an unforgiving, pure heat washed over her.

It had barely been 24 hours since they met.

 

*

 

Jon felt his heart beat hard enough through his body that it almost hurt him. He was still on the sofa, book in hand, with Ghost to his left.

He’d seen her this morning, and now she was coming here, and it all seemed so unlikely that he could scarcely believe it.

Time was out of joint; What did 20 minutes feel like?

Ghost was looking at him that way, back to judging him.

He took a quick glance around his apartment, but it wasn’t really that messy, and what mess he had she’d surely forgive. He was running out of bookcases, (he’d long ago decided that there was no such thing as too many books), and so the rest were stacked in unstable piles around the place.

What else was there? It was late, and it was pretty obvious what they we’re going to do. Right, condoms. Probably in the top drawer of his bedside table, though it never hurt to double check.

Jon concluded that 20 minutes felt way too long.

When the intercom finally hummed, (he’d basically disabled the horrid noise it made, both he and Ghost hated it), he wasn’t sure of what he was feeling. Relief that she was here, anticipation, a bit of nervousness perhaps. Mostly though, it just felt good. He’d met her hundreds of times, technically, even if it wasn’t like this.

The problem occured a short moment after Jon had opened the door. It was her, and he was more than happy to see her, he really was. But he quickly became aware of how the scent of Sansas perfume mixed with that of wine, and that she wasn’t quite steady on her feet as she stepped out of her boots. She gave him a smile that could melt him, but not in the way that she wanted.

 

“Hello.” Her smile never faded and she gave him a warm hug.

 

“Hi gorgeous.” He kissed her cheek. Now, how to do this right...

 

“I missed you.” And her words were wholly sincere, he could tell as much.

 

“I missed you too Sansa. But.” He doubted that this was going to end well. “You’re drunk.” At least his voice had come out neutral enough.

 

“Yes?” Rosy and sweet, he decided that she was still very much way too cute.

 

_But._

 

“I don’t play with tipsy girls.” The surprise was painted on her face for all the world to see.

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I obviously don’t mind you being here, but nothing happens like this. If you’d rather go home I’ll walk you to your door.” Better say it and get over with it. Sansa was evidently still in disbelief.

 

“I’d rather stay. But-” A big, white and _very_ fluffy pup bumped against Jons leg.

 

“Okay.” Ghost whined and Jon gave him a hopeless look. “Right, sorry. This is my Ghost.” Sansa looked as though Christmas had come early that year.

 

“He’s _huge_.” She knelt down and barely had time to reach out a hand before she was basically tackled to the ground, and all she could do was giggle like a maniac.

 

“You okay?” Jon sounded more amused than concerned and made no effort whatsoever to rescue her, and she just kept on laughing.

 

“Don’t you remember Lady? He’s just a bigger version of her.” And when Ghost was done deciding if he liked her smell or not and licking her face, Jon helped Sansa back off the floor.

 

“I’m glad things didn’t end here. I mean, what would I have done if he hadn’t liked you?” Sansa wiped at her face, glad she hadn’t worn much makeup that day.

 

“Well I’m glad I don’t have to find out, though I’d probably tried to convince you to come over to my place. Bathroom?” Jon nodded and pointed at the door furthest away in the corridor.

 

“Through there.”

 

“And no playing at all?”

 

“Not tonight.”

 

“Okay, but-” She almost looked confused. Guess the pretty girl was used to getting what she wanted, and she probably would have if he’d been any other man. “-Could we cuddle though?” He chuckled softly, almost shyly, running a hand through his hair.

 

“Only if you promise to behave.” She pouted a little and heaved an overly dramatic sigh.

 

“I promise.” He gave a low laugh.

 

“Believe it or not, but there will come a morning and we’ll still be here.” There was a twinkle in her eye, cheeky, determined. _Frustrated._

 

“You’re such a tease, do you know that?”

 

He knew.

 

_But she was staying._


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.
> 
> Mostly smut, some fluff.
> 
> Trust and consent are always sexy.
> 
> Warning: Mentioning of past sexual abuse, no details, just that it has happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for being so patient and supportive!
> 
> This is the second part of the chapter. Once more, I'm not quite sure how it happened, but there's like... fluff n' stuff in it. Whopps O.o

 

“If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.”

-Hamlet

 

*

 

She was, to Jons surprise, very good at behaving herself and thank god for that. He had no idea what he’d done if she hadn’t been.

A rosy Sansa had shamelessly stolen one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed with him like it was the most natural thing in the world, and nobody would hear him complain about it. They might as well have been glued together by the hips, and she’d quickly fallen asleep with her head on his arm. But Jon couldn’t join her in it for quite some time.

He lay awake long after her deep, calm breathing had ensued, face hidden in her hair, taking in her scent. A small _something_ stirred in him and it wouldn’t let him rest just yet.

What was he doing?

Two nights in a row they’d shared a bed; Two nights in a row he’d copied the rhythm of her breathing. Was this the right way of doing things, _was_ there an actual right way of doing things?

 

Were they actually doing anything?

 _He’d_ never done anything like this.

The thoughts span around in his head and gave him little peace.

 

For Jon, there were basically two ways of dealing with the women he let into his life: Date them properly or keep it as impersonal as possible. Not as in staying distant in any way but he rarely brought them home, and he never stayed over, and not just because he had to go home to Ghost. He was a simple man and liked as little confusion as possible.

This business with Sansa didn’t fit in, but then again, Sansa wasn’t like other girls.

Sansa had been _the_ girl for him for several years.

He must have scribbled her initials a thousand times in his notebooks when he was in school, lost his thoughts in class thinking about her. (And made sure that Robb never, _ever_ saw said doodles of her name with little hearts around them). Jon was a hopeless romantic and not afraid to say so, but he’d much rather Robb didn’t know any details on this particular thing.

Had there been any true thought behind his crush when he’d pined over her all those years ago? He tended to dismiss anything as trivial and superficial, because what the heck did an 18 year old know about love and life anyway. But the thought of it made him smile all the same, and the feeling had come back every time he met her, even when years passed between encounters.

Terrifyingly enough, even now, if not _quite_ the same kind of butterflies. Somewhere deep inside there was a teenage Jon who couldn’t believe that she was here right now, and yet she was, and it didn’t feel strange at all. If anything, it felt too easy. He could get used to this.

God he hoped that she wasn’t here just because she’d been drinking, it would break his heart just a little if that was the case. Definitely just a little, but enough to hurt.

So what were they doing again?

Oh yeah. They’d had amazing sex and happened to live close by, _that’s_ what they were doing, but that _something_ still stung him. It was ridiculous. It had been years since he’d last seen her, he’d only rarely thought about her, he was an adult and this was ridiculous. _Ridiculous._ He willed his mind empty.

He’d think about that tomorrow, or so he told himself.

To all who knew him, and as far as he knew himself, Jon was the opposite of a reckless man. He wasn’t spontaneous, he was structured, (even if he could improvise if necessary), heavily guarding his privacy. Sansa randomly sleeping in his bed on a wednesday night was basically a representation of everything he usually wouldn’t do. But he really liked that she was here.

And in any case, Ghost obviously loved her.

 

*

 

When they came back from their regular morning walk, the door to the bedroom was open and the smell of perfume and coffee and _her_ hit him like a warm breeze. She’d been sleeping when he left, he’d written her a note and put it, (along with a key), on the bedside table. She could have let herself out, dropped the key in the mailbox and never spoken a word to him again.

But she was still here.

_Sansa Stark was still in his apartment._

He unhooked the leash but wasn’t allowed to remove the collar before Ghost had wandered off to the kitchen, completely ignoring him. He was clearly more eager to see Sansa again than to be comfortable. Oh well.

Jon kicked off his shoes, hung up his jacket and threw another quick glance towards the bedroom. Her clothes were still on the floor and it hit him that there might be a somewhat naked woman in his kitchen. A somewhat naked Sansa. Hell.

He rounded a corner and there she was, tousled hair and smudged makeup, still wearing his t-shirt, on her knees petting Ghost. He leaned against the doorframe, taking it in, smiling like a fool. She couldn’t have been any cuter if she tried.

 

“Good morning.” Her voice was sweet and happy and she looked up at him with a goofy smile. “Does he usually have his collar on?” Jon shook his head and walked over to her, crouching down and _finally_ getting to unhook it.

 

“Nah, he escaped to you before I had a chance to remove it,” and Sansa looked way too happy about that.

 

“I shall steal him away from you.” And she ruffled his fur a little more for good measure.

 

_Or you could stay,_

_And I’ll steal you away._

_Wait, ~~strike that.~~ _

_That thought was not meant to be there._

 

“Right...”

 

They stood up, he pulled out a couple of mugs and she poured the coffee. He fed Ghost, (who was whining, which was very unlike him), and sat down opposite Sansa by the kitchen table.

 

“You got class today?” She shrugged, looking out the window. Her hair was the same colour as the leaves on the trees outside, highlighted by the sunshine.

 

“It’s not mandatory, so probably not going.”

 

“Hm.” Steam rose from his cup. “I thought good girls never missed school.” _Too easy._

 

She gave him a quick glance, blushing, pointedly ignoring his comment.

 

“I assume you’re going to work.”

 

“It’s not mandatory.” It took a second for her to register what he’d said, and she looked at him in slight disbelief before they shared a laugh. “Seriously though.” He tried taking a sip, but it was still way too warm. “I’m never away. They wouldn’t miss me if you want to…” _Want to what?_

 

The sentence was left hanging in the air. If just a _single_ day in his life could go by without him being the most awkward person in the room.

 

“Wouldn’t it be awful selfish of me to ask you to do something like that?” She cradled the cup in her hands, definitely teasing him. Oh well.

 

“That’s your prerogative to decide.”

 

And now they were both blushing. A silent minute passed by during which they breathed surprisingly little.

 

“I’m going back to bed.”

 

And so, what was probably the most gorgeous woman in the world downed her coffee and got up and just _left him there_. It took him a moment to collect himself before he sent Sam a text and went after her.

 

*

 

The curtains were drawn, though it’s wasn’t completely dark when he shut the door behind him. She stood halfway between the him and the bed, turned towards him, pulling _his_ shirt from her body as soon as he stepped in, and it hit something in him that he was convinced wasn't supposed to be there. Close to territorial, but he forced it away.

She was almost naked, and he was fully dressed.

It was too hot, or too cold, or maybe there was just too much distance between them, but he stood frozen, sensory overload. Just _one_ more thing.

 

“Rules?” His throat felt dry.

 

“The same?”

 

“Yes.” But there was a twitch in his chest, and it didn’t feel like enough because this situation was very different from the first time they did anything. “No, or I mean.” He took off his glasses and ran a hand over his face, focusing. “This is all about titles, right?” She gave him an untroubled look.

 

“Do you want something else?”

 

“No, I just…” And he heaved a small sigh. “Look, last time you asked me not to do anything hard. But there’s nothing inherently ‘hard’ about this.” She raised her brows slightly.

 

“Oh that.”

 

“Yes, oh that.” But Sansa merely shrugged.

 

“I guess I just assumed that you’d want to.” Something about her words pinched a bother in him.

 

“That doesn’t matter. We hadn’t talked about it.” The surprise on her face was as much of a red flag as anything he’d ever seen.

 

“Huh. Yeah, guess you’re right.” And then there was silence, perhaps the first between them that wasn’t all that great. The concern in his voice was obvious as he spoke again.

 

“You’re going to have to tell me a bit more than that.” And as Sansa spent a minute putting her thoughts together, he waited without interrupting her.

 

“How about this,” she started finally. “I trust you instinctively, because _it’s you._ I’ve known you for years, and I know you’re good. But it never hurts to clarify things.” But he wasn’t satisfied. Something felt off, something in her eyes told him so.

 

“We haven’t seen each other in years, I could have turned out to be an idiot.” She laughed softly.

 

“And Robb would have killed you.” But it still felt as though she was hiding something.

 

“At the end of the day, you’d still be hurt.” He searched her face, but it revealed very little, guarding her. Another silence went by and his throat grew tight.

 

“Please, listen to me.” She took a step back and sat down on the bed, gesturing for him to join her there, which he did. “I’m only going to say this once, and you can either trust me or you can tell me to go.” Jon nodded, not trusting his voice. She put her hand on his. “I know a good man when I see one. If there’d been any doubt in my mind as to that, I would have left, even if old habits are hard to shake.” And he couldn’t find a drop of incenserity in her.

 

“So asking me not to is because…”

 

“Double checking, safety first and all that.” She took a deep breath, letting her guard down momentarily, but it was enough to let him read her.

 

“Because at some point when you didn’t, you got hurt.” It wasn’t a question. “You’ve been hurt.”

 

Jon felt completely empty inside.

 

“I don’t like bringing it up, but yes, and I’ve dealt with it.” He had no idea of what to say. What could he have said anyway. “It’s nothing to worry about, you have to believe me on that, or this won’t work.” But for as much as he trusted her, the answer still hit him like a hammer against an anvil, and it took him a minute to gather his thoughts again.

 

“Dear fucking god.” He closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her. “Look, I’m not asking you to tell me what happened, but you’re going to need to be _extremely specific_ with what you want before we start anything new at all.”

 

“Sure.” Her voice was a little too small and he really hated being right, but his gut was rarely wrong. “Absolutely.”

 

“Promise me. It’s the only thing I ask of you.”

 

“I promise.” Wasn’t she just a little to calm about this?

 

“Thank you.” He kissed her cheek. “And if you do want to talk about it, which I still kind of think we ought to do, I’m right here.”

 

“I-” She paused when she met his eyes, but they were as calm as ever. “-Okay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

She cocked her head to the side and gave him a strange, searching look, and when she smiled reassuringly the world stopped spinning.

 

“I really am fine about this. Are you?” She poked his chest and he couldn’t help but smile back at her.

 

“Yeah.” She leaned in and kissed him and he melted into her.

 

“Promise?”

 

_“Yes.”_

 

_Because if it was trust her or nothing, he did trust her._

 

“Do you need a moment? I’ll wait as long as you need me to, and we don’t have to do anything.” She was asking him, _and she was still smiling._

 

There was a true tenderness in the way she touched him, ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheek and it fully succeeded in putting him at ease. He felt a little lost at sea, but she pulled him back in and soothed his worries away. There was nothing fake about it and he fell back into their safe zone, the one where it felt as though he’d always know her like this, always fit perfectly against her.

 

“You really are completely okay then?” She giggled a response. It wasn’t fair.

 

“If you’ll still have me, you have all my trust.” He leaned into her touch. “Do I have yours?”

 

“Mmh.” He nodded a response.

 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” And she nudged her nose against his and he just looked at her, because she was _everything_ to him right now.

 

“Yes. Yes you have it.”

 

She shifted her legs and got up to stand, and for one horrifying moment he thought she was about to leave, but then she pushed him further in on the bed and straddled him. She ghosted her fingertips over his face and he closed his eyes and she kissed them softly, carefully, kissed his cheeks and lips and jawline, landing by his pulse and stayed there, resting her head against his shoulder.

 

“Can we play now?” He looked down at her for a few seconds before he made up his mind, stroked her hair and nodded against her.

 

She pulled away slightly and gave him the innocent smile that contained anything but innocence, effectively rebooting his system.

 

“Come here.”

 

“You silly man, _I am on top of you.”_

 

But she somehow got even closer and it was everything he’d ever wanted.

There was a desperation in his hands when he cupped her face and kissed her, as though he was afraid she’d dissolve into thin air if he let her go, as though he wanted to kiss away all the bad things that had happened to her. He felt her eyes on his face, chest tense against him as she held her breath.

 

_He'd give her anything._

 

“Tell me what you want.” He traced soft kisses along her neck, feeling her heartbeat against his lips.

 

_He’d give her everything._

 

“I want you to call me baby and sweetheart and… don’t call me bad names.”

 

“I’d _never,_ sorry to inform you but it’s not my thing _at all.”_ He felt her hands run through his hair and down over his neck and shoulders, clearly annoyed that they couldn’t reach his back through his shirt.

 

“And I want to be your good girl.” She batted her lashes playfully at him.

 

_“But you are-”_

 

“And pull my hair a little, but just _a little.”_

 

“I could…” He kissed her neck, carefully twisting her long, silky locks in his hands and her chest heaved sharply when he pulled her head back, if ever so slightly, causing her lips to part and eyes to close. _He’d remember that._ “So... like this?”

 

“Aha… And I want to call you daddy... _Preferably right now.”_

 

“Oh sweetheart…” He slowly let go of her hair and kissed her again. “That you can do whenever you want.”

 

“Please…” Her voice was a low whisper, hands tugging at his shirt, heat building in his gut.

 

“Please what?” He found an empty spot between the marks he’d left on her before and bit, sucked, kissed her skin until she let her head fall back and sighed oh so sweetly.

 

 _“Please daddy…”_ And she was blindly attempting to undo his belt, tugging at his trousers and running her hands over his skin to get his shirt off, and he let it happen without a fight.

 

Or rather, he didn’t have it in him to resist _everything_ she did, even if he did stop her when she reached his boxers.

 

“ _Patience_ sweetheart.” And she whined against him and he thought he might lose it, barely calming his nerves enough to continue.

 

As it were, they did have all day, and he wasn’t about to ruin things by rushing them.

 

“You know if you behave, I get you what you want…” _Anything, anything you want._ He ran his hand down her spine and she practically hissed at him. “Now be a good girl and do what daddy tells you to.” There was a sharp _something_ in his chest again. _Go away._

 

He pushed her chin up and looked straight into her eyes, searching for any hesitation or sign to make him stop, but they sparkled heat and she nodded into his hand. Could she tell how lost he was in her?

He didn’t let her go, leaned in close enough to feel her breath on his face and smell her arousal, but didn’t kiss her. She trembled, and he knew that he had her.

She was unbelievably soft under his hands as they caressed her cheeks and made a trail down her neck, over her chest, landing on her hips. Somewhere along the way it almost became too much for him to handle and he felt himself press against her.

 

“Ready?” And he wasn’t just asking her.

 

The perfect girl nodded again, blushing, eyes shining. He grabbed her hips harder and her back made an inclination to arch, but she regained her composure and resisted. Impressive, and he had to smile a little. His voice was low and soft as he spoke.

 

“I’m going to kiss you.” No, not like that, and she knew.

 

_Just say yes sweetheart._

 

“Get on the bed, dead center.” She did.

 

_I won’t stop until you’re shaking._

 

“And this needs to go.” God knows where the silk and lace went. She wasn’t blushing anymore, breathing shallow. “Sansa?”

 

“Yes daddy?” Not skipping a beat, voice low but surprisingly steady. Perfect.

 

Fine. She was fine. _She was so much fucking more than fine with this._

 

_I’m about to fuck you senseless._

 

“Spread.”

 

But with this, she decided to take her sweet time.

He stood by the edge of the bed with a full view of her body, sight adjusting to the dark, her ivory skin contrasting the indigo sheets. Flawless.

She reached a hand down towards the junction of her thighs, but Jon still kept his eyes locked with hers. Her lips parted at the same time as her legs and he had the urge to just climb on top of her and take her. Sansa must have noticed because she _stopped_  and her eyes were taunting him.

 

“Daddy?” Just a little too smug, and she knew it.

 

 _“Spread,_ sweetheart.” And her eyes glazed over again.

 

The fact that his words had the effect they did on her was a boost to his ego from which he might never recover. She was such a sweet thing, and she was _this,_ and she wanted him to take care of her. In that moment, _she was his._

Actually, it really was too much, numbing him out.

His gaze travelled down her body to where she was touching herself and, and-

Whatever was keeping him back shattered when she sighed his name.

He looked back up at her face and she was fucking him with her eyes. It took him a full minute to collect himself. She paused, her whimper sending shivers echoing through him, and then tunnel vision, everything went dark except her. In that moment he realized that she wasn’t just his; He was hers, and he was drowning.

He fell onto the bed on his knees, ready to worship, and she watched him, panting, as he came down over her body.

 

_Closer._

_He needed her closer._

 

“You’re such a good girl...” _And she could tell he really meant it._ He kissed her just above her right knee and traced a slow, wet path up to her venus, feeling her quiver against him. _“My_ girl.”

 

“Always yours daddy.” _God_ he needed to hear her say that, way more than he’d like to admit, and her blue, blue eyes bore into his.

 

Between the hard beating of his heart and Sansas raw breathing there was a rush that blinded him, and all he could think about was how to make her say his name again. He needed to hear it, ached for it.

Then there was another moment when she lay perfectly still and time might as well have stopped. He let his thumbs trace the edges of her and he could already tell that she’s so fucking wet for him, back arching, hands pulling at the sheets and he’d barely even touched her yet...

_Who was he kidding, he had no self control._

 

It was one of the few times with her that he closed his eyes. He knew her, he could never forget anything about her, and he wanted so badly to feel her soft and hot against him. He was way more possessive than he ought to be, but in that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. And when she heaved that deep sigh of relief as he finally stopped thinking and just fucked her with his mouth, he felt entitled to own that as well.

Relief meant that she needed him, and he really enjoyed that part.

Jon _really_ wanted Sansa to need him.

He hooked his hands around her thighs and pulled her closer to him, held her there, let himself get completely lost in her scent and sounds and the way her hips rocked softly against him. She was like velvet, and he was a lucky bastard.

 

“Daddy...” Her voice was deep and sweet and dreamy and _needy_. _“Please... don’t... stop...” Oh god._

 

He drew soft, slow strokes on her, and she trembled in his hands. She was about to, he knew she was, but then the moment passed and she _didn’t_ , what the-

 

“Baby?” He carefully let go of her legs and sat himself back up, confused, _worried,_ but she looked like pure sex and there was no sign of anything being amiss. So there wasn’t anything wrong then?

 

“No.” He stared blankly at her. _She was teasing him._

 

“No?” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling desperation clawing itself up inside his chest. _But I want it._ She was studying his face and looked _way_ too happy with herself. “Sweetheart this isn’t very nice.”

 

“I just want you to kiss me first.” Once more with that cheeky voice, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling, and she smiled back, and he absolutely _adored_ her for it.

 

“I _was,_ if you couldn’t tell.” But he made his way up to her face anyways, brushing his mouth against hers. He couldn’t deny her anything, but- “Good girls ask for it.” And he felt that slight arch against him, _and they were just words..._

 

“Kiss me _please.”_

 

 _“Of course.”_ And she purred against him, hands in his hair and they were still smiling. It was greedy and wet and sloppy and _hot_ beyond comprehension and when he pulled away, she was breathing like she’d been under water. “All better?” And she fucking _blushed,_ she was so beautiful it almost hurt.

 

“All better daddy.”

 

“Then please.” He grabbed her hips and felt her shiver. _“Pretty please with sugar on top,_ try to behave.” There was a soft spot just below her collarbone that he was sure he’d missed, and he bit down, perhaps a little harder than he usually did, but the sound that escaped her throat told him that she didn’t mind.

 

“And if I don’t?”

 

“Sansa, I swear to god, I can’t-”

 

“Can’t what?” _I can’t stand the thought of not having my wicked way with you._ She had him, she knew it, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. But...

 

He sat back up and she whined at the loss, because as much as she loved to tease him, she _hadn’t_ actually peaked yet. Not that he wasn’t frustrated out of his mind, but it seemed he was better than her at containing it. Well, for now.

He took a moment to look it over. Her messy hair, the fucked up sheets, the fact that she was naked and he wasn’t yet. Her breathing was shallow and lips parted where he’d left them.

 

“You want to misbehave?” It came out like a reprimand with a hint of amusement. She let her arms fall back onto her pillow and gave him an innocent smile. For a second time that morning Jon decided that it wasn’t fair.

 

“I want to drive you crazy.” Flushed, gorgeous and full of mischief. He could work with this.

 

“Do you just?” And he came back above her, biting her neck, letting one of his hands find its way down between her legs. “But you forget one thing…” He was almost inside her and she held her breath but he waited for her answer. It was possibly the most difficult thing he’d done in his entire life.

 

“What daddy?” And she was back to being his good, breathless, _needy_ little girl, and he had to look at her again. Her eyes were hazy and he kissed her sweetly, she was so pretty all riled up like this and the anticipation on her face...

 

“I was always crazy about you.”

 

With the utmost care and _oh so fucking slowly_ he slid two fingers inside her, curling them into _that_ spot because he knew exactly what she needed and he’d never deny her a thing. She clenched around him, pulsating as the rush came over her, and she arched so completely into him that he had to press her down a little.

But she was quiet. She looked at him with those burning eyes, lips parted, but there was no sound. And for the love of god, _why?_

 

“Sansa?” He wasn’t really sure what he was asking her, but he wanted her to- “Let yourself.”

 

And she fell back, humming against his chest, touching him wherever she could and there were broken gasps and raw moans and something low and dark in her throat that was completely new to him.

A metallic taste filled his mouth and he needed more of whatever this was. There was a crushing realization that he’d _always_ want more.

 

“Let me have you.” It didn’t come out like a question, it wasn’t a command; It was lust, dripping from his mouth like blood. 

She looked at him in a way that Jon didn’t recognize, but it spoke to something primal in him. Claiming, terrifyingly possessive, he wasn’t sure if anyone had ever looked at him like that before. Was it supposed to be like this?

 

_Fuck it._

 

 _“So have me.”_ Her voice rang low and clear, eyes much darker than his and it gave him the feeling of falling.

 

He curled his fingers harder inside her and she kept looking at him, silent, daring. He traced his thumb around her clit and there was a sharp sound in her throat, but she bit it back, smiling at him.

He did it again, but there was nothing. _Not a single fucking sound._ His face spelled vexation but when he pulled out her chest heaved and she _hissed_ at him. He tsked her.

Oh they’d play, he’d just take it up a notch.

 

“I don’t think so.” He kissed her softly, much softer than she’d liked, kissed her cheeks and her neck and her jawline. “That’s for good girls, but…” Her hands came up around his shoulders but he gently pushed them back again. “You’re not a good girl, are you sweetheart?”

 

“Daddy…”

 

“Yes baby?” And he kept on kissing her sweetly, as though nothing had happened at all. “You can pretend all you want, but I know I made you come, so why are you still misbehaving?” And no matter how much he’d tried to hide it, there was an unmistakable streak of amusement in his voice.

 

 _“Jon.”_ Oh, she was blushing, and she looked embarrassed, and it was adorable.

 

She hid her face against his neck and he smiled, because the fact that she was still _embarrassed_ at a time like this was the cutest thing ever.

_But._

 

“No sweetheart… No this will not do at all.” He let out a small sigh. “What on earth ought I to do with you?”

 

He wrapped her long hair around his wrist and slowly pulled her head back against the pillow. Her mouth opened and eyes closed, but no sound escaped her.

 

“Oh dear god… fuck me.” He tsked her again.

 

“Good girls don’t curse.” He pinched the inside of her thigh, (but not very hard), and she whined against him but more from frustration than anything else. “Now, one last time: You’re going to behave, aren’t you Sansa?” He kissed her and drank the heat from her skin.

 

“Yes daddy.” She put her hands above her head.

 

“I’m going to have you.” He let go of her hair and put both hands on her hips.

 

 _“Yes.”_ He pulled her close.

 

“Look at me sweetheart.” Because he needed to know that she wanted this. “You’re so important to me.”

 

And when she met his eyes she was all rosy and dreamy and stunned into silence, but she nodded, smiling almost shyly and reached up to kiss him. Her breathing was uneven, heat overwhelming.

 

“I want you. Have me.”

 

For a brief moment all he could do was stare at her, reveling in this perfect little mess they’d made. Then she touched his cheek and reality came rushing back to him, even if he couldn’t think straight anymore. It happened in a blur, he lost his underwear and somewhere to his right there was a condom and she helped him with it.

She never took his eyes off him, not once, and he wanted to say something but his voice was gone. His hands travelled down her body, ghosting her areola, her pale skin, until they rested in the sweet junction of her thighs. She felt impossibly hot as he touched her with his thumbs and a small smile crossed his face. She was his, for now.

When his hands lingered her hips adjusted and then Sansas hands were on his, and she coaxed them back up to her chest.

 

“You should kiss me.”

 

“I should.” And when he did, crashing into her, he was completely lost. She shifted beneath him, pressed his hands harder on her and pushed up against him.

 

“You’re so good to me.” He kissed her face wherever he could.

 

“It’s easy when you’re such a sweetheart.” _God help him if she kept blushing like that..._

 

He brought her legs up and she wrapped them around his waist, took hold of her hips and she let out a small gasp when he slowly fell into her. He watched her carefully, pupils dilating, licking her lips, eyes open wide. If he only could he would have kept her like this all day. But alas...

 

“Daddy…” And her voice was strained with a hint of frustration. “You’re teasing me.”

 

“Hm?” He traced a hand down between her legs and circled her _oh_ so sensitive spot and she arched into him. “I’d never…” He could see her eyes grow hazy, thrusted a little bit harder and felt her panting against his skin.

 

It was more than intensity, though the rush itself was fierce. It was the fact that it was _her_ that set his world on end. _It was 8 am and he was literally fucking the girl from his dreams._

It took all the will he could muster, but he stopped, and she let out a small scream from the built up frustration.

 

“No!” Her eyes were pleading him to continue and he smiled because yeah, he loved her like this. _“Seven hells no.”_

 

“But _sweetheart,_ what did I say about cursing?” She shook her head, a look of disbelief on her face, but he merely kissed her cheek.

 

 _“Oh_ _no."_ And he felt her pushing up and didn't stop her. Let her rile herself up. "Jon you can't be serious." But he shook his head at her and it did nothing to help her situation.

 

“I told you, just be good...” He bit down on her neck.

 

“But-”

 

“And I’ll give you...” He ran a hand through her hair and pulled at it.

 

 _“Jon, I swear to god-”_ But Jon was not a religious man, and Jon had no mercy for naughty little girls.

 

_“Anything you want.”_

 

And she stared at him, finally realizing that this was the _real_ payback for her earlier naughty business and he gave her a crooked smile. A few seconds went by and she sighed, face changing. Batting her lashes, she cocked her head to the side and tried her most innocent look one last time.

 

“Oh daddy I’ve been bad.” He kissed her softly and pulled at her hair a little bit harder, earning him a sharp gasp.

 

“Yeah sugar, you have.”

 

“I’ll be good.” Her hands found their way up to his hips and she clutched desperately at them. _“I’ll be so good to you.”_

 

And who was he to deny his pleading girl?

He offered her a kiss, and she took it. He offered her his body, and she took it, and he gave himself more freely to her than he’d ever done anyone else. There were no walls, there were no reasons to keep away. There was only her, only him, and the electric bond that tied them together.

She wanted to own him. It was obvious enough in her eyes and the way she looked at him, and it pushed him that final bit over the edge. She could act sweet all she wanted, but there was a heat in the woman looking up at him from beneath those hooded eyes, and he knew that she would have her way and _he let her._

 

“Put your legs up honey.” Not a second’s hesitation, and he only took a moment to collect himself before he grabbed her, locked them together and fucked her as hard as he dared to.

 

_And everything was a pulsating heat and stream of please daddy, yes daddy, fuck me daddy, I’ll do whatever you want just please… never… stop..._

 

He didn’t stop until she was shaking and panting and clasping so hard around him that he felt the world fade away and a white noise filled his head. It was like a cramp, and she bit his neck hard enough to make him wince but it felt _amazing._

He didn’t stop until she was screaming the semblance of his name into his shoulder and clawed red streaks over his back.

 

Laying together in the hot, wet aftermath, she purred into him like a cat, quivering softly. There was a glimmer in her eyes and he tasted the salt on her neck as their breathing got calmer. A lazy kiss, a trembling sigh, then she pulled him down to her, holding him there, and they fell to the side refusing to let go.

Neither spoke a word.

 

 

*

 

Later that morning, Sansa stood by the bedroom window, curtain slightly open, brushing her long hair through her fingers, daydreaming. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

 

“I have to ask you something.” She turned towards him, cheeks tinted pink, back in his t-shirt.

 

“Yeah?” _Please don’t let this ruin things._

 

“Was it just because you were drunk?” She raised her eyebrows, smiling sweetly.

 

“That I texted you?”

 

“Yeah...” And he steeled himself a bit more than he’d wanted to, but she still smiled.

 

“No. Though I get braver.” At that, Jons heart danced a little.

 

“Huh.” So maybe it danced more than a little, and maybe that was okay.

 

“I really wanted to see you.” _It danced a lot._

 

“Oh. Well I’m glad to hear it.” He got up, still naked, walked up to stand behind her and wrapped his arms about her. “Makes a man wonder why though...” And he kissed a spot behind her ear that he knew was ticklish, earning him a giggle.

 

“You mean, aside from your pretty face or the memory of the best sex of my life?” Yeah, his ego was pretty much as fucked as he was after her.

 

“Methinks my lady has a very crude mouth.” And he kissed her a little further down, releasing a soft sigh.

 

“I’ll tell you the real reason if you promise not to make fun of me.” Cue the curiosity of a lifetime, and he pulled away slightly.

 

“I promise.” And she wrapped her hands around his and leaned back a bit further into his chest.

 

“It was the best morning I’d had in ages.” And he hugged her a little closer because he felt a little overwhelmed, even if the words themselves weren’t that big. “I just wasn’t sure what the rules were to be honest.” He shrugged.

 

“Guess we don’t really have any. Should we?” She gave it a quick thought before she answered.

 

“Do we need them?” But Jon didn’t actually know the answer to that. This was outside of his regular protocol as it was, and he wanted more mornings like this.

 

“Well… are we going to keep doing this, or was it just a final a re-round before what will turn out to be a disastrous date?” And thankfully Sansa burst out laughing.

 

“Way to paint the devil on the wall, I thought you were all done brooding!” He shrugged again.

 

“Doesn’t it feel a bit too easy to work out though?”

 

“Things are what you make them, aren’t they?” She caressed his cheek and he leaned into her touch.

 

“True, but, what if the date _is_ a disaster?” And now Sansa shrugged, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she spoke.

 

“What, you think I’d ditch you because you haven’t heard of Pasternak?” But this _was_ almost too good, and he couldn't help a small chuckle before he answered.

 

“No, because as it is, I’ve read Doktor Zjivago.” A couple of seconds passed by before she turned around to face him, eyeing him sceptically.

 

“Really?”

 

“Of all the things in the world, why would I lie about that?” And her expression went from disbelieving to impressed to-

 

“I’m like the _weirdest_ kind of horny right now.” Wait, what?

 

“And you’re oh so _weirdly_ adorable.” But she was pulling at the bottom of her sleeve and bit her lip. He stared blankly at her.

 

“Wait, you’re serious?”

 

 _“Are you kidding me?”_  He still couldn't quite believe it and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“Oh.”

 

 _“Jon.”_ She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Would you just bend me over and take me already?” He cocked his head to the side, wondering what else this _definitely_ strange mind might contain.

 

“I could be persuaded.”

 

“Jon. _Now.”_

 

“Yeah okay. But I’m putting this on the crazy-list.”

 

But for as weird as she was, her kisses were still as lovely as ever.


	4. Peaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut and fluff, because no matter what I do there is somehow always more fluff O.o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thank you all so much for the response I'm getting, you're all so kind to me and I feel a bit overwhelmed O.o
> 
> 2\. So this chapter isn't as long as the others, which made me wonder: Is it better with shorter and more frequent posts, or longer but further in between? I wouldn't mind either, it's more a matter of logistics.
> 
> 3\. Enjoy! ^^

“Jon…”

 

He had her up against a wall, her hands gripping his shoulders and he knew she was getting close.

 

“Hm?”

 

He wasn’t about to pull away to answer her. She drew in a sharp breath and pressed up against him as he curled his fingers deeper into her.

 

_“Jon.”_

 

But he wouldn’t let her go, felt her grow tighter and sucked her clit just a _little_ harder and-

 

_“My knees will give in.”_

 

And that brought him back, even if his hands never left her.

 

“Nonsense, I’ve got you.” She whined, looking down at him with something akin to desperation in her eyes. “You want me to stop?” But at that she shook her head and he had to smile a bit. “So tell me sweetheart, tell daddy what you want.” And Sansa swallowed hard.

 

“I want-” She blinked hard a couple of times and desperately tried to focus. “-but I’ll fall and-”

 

“Over my shoulder. Your knee.” A moment of adjusting and things seemed fine again, he kissed the inside of her thigh. “I got you.”

 

Her body grew tense **,** pushing herself up against the wall again as he felt her pulsate around him and he just looked at her, waiting for any kind of response.

 

“Could you…” He felt her hands in his hair, tugging at it, and moved instinctively.

 

“Mmh.” His mouth was back on her in an instant and she moaned _hard,_ trembling against him.

 

He wanted to tell her how amazing and wild and beautiful she was, how much he loved the silky feel and taste of her, but it would have to wait until later. Right now, Jon was busy with the wetness that reached halfway across her thighs and he had a one track mind.

This was quickly becoming his very favourite pastime.

When she came it felt like it lasted an eternity, and to Jon that was pretty close to heaven. It was in the way she panted and shivered, how her body went lax and she fell into his arms after coaxing his hands away when it became too much; It was in the sticky kisses and her blushing cheeks and her hot breath against his face.

 

“Fuck...” She sighed it out in worship, and he kissed her all the more for it.

 

“Yeah.” And they shared a soft laugh, because there was something about the situation that made him feel like a teenager again and she looked more satisfied than he’d ever seen her.

 

And he was _pretty sure_ he’d satisfied her rather well just earlier that morning.

 

“I can’t believe you did that.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, still on the floor, dousing him in her heat.

 

“You’re amazing you know.”

 

“I know I feel amazing.” And she kissed him so deeply that he lost himself a little in her.

 

*

 

Somewhere along the line she started rocking her hips against him, and he hissed at her as he became increasingly aware of all the frustration that had built up inside. He was tense and hot and _hard_ and she was _right there on top of him._ They were so close that their noses touched and he couldn’t take his eyes off her, and if looks could fuck she was having him right now.

 

“Hey daddy…” A jolt went through him, it wasn’t fair but right now it was all it took and he ran his hands over her shoulders.

 

“Mmh?” It was getting _painful._ “You all good sweetheart?”

 

She brushed a lock of hair that he hadn’t noticed from his eyes and closed the gap between them, bit his lip and kissed him softly. Her hands found their way down between her legs and onto _him_ and he pulled back slightly, panting into her open mouth, and she _smirked_ at him.

 

“I want to have you.” _That one was new._ “Please.” Her eyes were full of mischief, and he really didn’t mind.

 

“Here?” Jons voice landed somewhere between surprise and desperation and Sansa didn’t miss it. She shrugged slightly and he could feel her wetness through his underwear, numbing out his mind.

 

“Anywhere you like.” He stared at her, he couldn’t help it, echoing her words from earlier that day.

 

 _“So have me.”_ The smile she gave told him that his answer pleased her _a lot._

 

“Lay down, let me be your best girl…”

 

She gave him a playful push and he let himself fall back, mind filling with white noise as she straddled him.

He kept on staring at her. Was this allowed?

 

_“Yes baby.”_

 

And then she stood up, his heart catching in his throat for a second before he realized that he needed to get his boxers off and she reached for a condom, but he’d forgotten all about it by the time she was back on him again. He was out of breath before she’d even started.

 

“You’ve been so good to me daddy.” She tore the foil with her teeth and he shivered as she touched him. “Let me be your good girl and take care of you.”

 

He nodded, stunned, feeling her slick against him, chest heaving as she let him sink into her. Head falling back and eyes shut tight, he grabbed at her hips to keep her still because the sheer experience of her was overwhelming. She waited until he looked back up at her and loosened his grip before she shifted slightly.

She let her hands rest on his chest and kissed him sweetly before she straightened her back again. A flash of blue from the slits of her eyes, a daring and naughty something in them and he gasped softly as she tightened around him _on purpose._

This wasn’t fair either.

When he made an attempt at thrusting up into her she carefully put her hands on him, holding him down, and he was fairly certain that he almost died.

 

“Not yet.” And he obliged without question, if _somewhat_ frustrated, but-

 

But then she moved.

She rode him and took him over.

She locked him down and he was unable, unwilling to stop it.

Her back bent like a willow and he wasn’t sure of how she managed to simultaneously rock her hips and take him so deep and just _fuck_ him as hard as she did.

But she did.

_His girl._

His good, good girl.

 

“Daddy…” She reached for his hands and traced them up her legs, over her soft skin to her chest and he touched her like he’d never had a woman before. He wanted all of her; he wanted everything.

 

She threw her hair back and lifted herself just a little higher, but it was enough of a change to make him lose all control and he bucked into her without thinking, cursing under his breath because he was getting very close and just a little too quickly for his own liking.

 

“Do you want more?” The teasing twinkle in her eye was back.

 

Sansa Stark was riding him and there was a rain pounding against his window. What more was there?

 

“Always.” And he swallowed down a bit of that _something_ that he was so desperate to rid himself off. 

 

He lets his hands fall down and grasp her hard, maybe a bit too hard, but she put her hands over his and pressed him further into her. His mind went blank, and then she let him thrust as hard into her as he pleased. She was focusing, he could tell, and the tightness around him meant that she was coming again, riding on her high.

 

“Fuck me daddy...”

 

Her voice was dreamy and she was such a sweetheart of a girl and she was so tight and he was so completely inside her and-

 

“Sansa?” He held her down on him and felt her tremble as he hit her core.

 

“Yeah?” It was more of a moan than an actual word.

 

“Can I- Is this okay?”

 

He held her fast, pressing her down towards him, hitting her center hard as he thrust into her. Her breath came out with every movement and she whined and put her hands on her chest and in her hair and she came _harder_ and he was staring at her again but he _didn’t care._

It was a different kind of tight, it was a different kind of wet, it was a different kind of orgasm all together and he felt so fucking smug about getting her there.

She drew shallow breaths and panted out low-pitched whimpers but when he asked if she was okay she asked for _more,_ and he willingly gave it to her. God knows he wouldn’t be able to do it for long but he needed to burn this picture into his mind before it disappeared.

 

“You’re perfect.” And she smiled down at him and somehow tightened a little bit more, and she smelled so good and she was so soft and-

 

His hands held her so hard that her breath hitched and then he was arching into _her_ , convulsing under _her_ , and she bent down as he stiffened in his release, kissing his neck as he started seeing stars.

It was as though the walls around him disappeared and a heavy darkness fell around them, and all he could make out was the beating of her heart and the blood rushing through his head. Something inside of him was painfully hot, _she_ was too hot, and still the cool air around him became clearer than ever and made him quiver.

The best girl.

_His._

She kissed him again, softer, sweeter and with more care. He felt her eyelashes against his face as the mist started clearing up, though his vision was still a little blurry around the edges. He never wanted to come down from his high but shivered contently as he did anyway.

 

“I can’t believe you did that,” and his voice was raw and a little broken through his panting as she kept on kissing him. He tried willing his body to move but it failed him.

 

“You’re pretty amazing you know.” There was a streak of teasing and he more felt than heard her sigh as she rested her head on his chest. An immeasurable moment of silence passed by.

 

“I’ve never done anything like this.” She turned her face slightly upwards to face him, curious.

 

“Me neither.”

 

It had been 36 hours.

 

*

 

One could never be completely certain, but Jon was _quite_ sure that he was thoroughly fucked out.

They’d done it in his bed, (twice), on the floor, up against the wall. The air in his bedroom was heavy with the smell of sex and sweat and her perfume and _coffee_ of all things, because somehow wherever she was, there was coffee.

Approximately half the day had passed when they'd decided to leave the bedroom and take a shower, even if he resented the fact that she wouldn’t smell like him anymore. And since when had he become this much of a caveman that he wanted to mark a woman like this?

No, strike that thought.

_Anyhow._

He usually hated showering with other people; It wasn’t practical, it was messy, he always got shampoo in his eyes and you had to work around each other. But he liked it with her, washed her hair and held her close under the streaming water and shared wet, silly kisses that made her giggle. It felt weird, but definitely the good kind.

 

*

 

Lacking a better expression, Sansa felt as though her bones had dissolved and her body was made of pudding. She’d been so utterly and properly fucked that she wondered if she’d be able to walk home later or if she’d just collapse unto Jons couch and stay there.

Needless to say, it felt pretty damn great.

It was almost a little bit scary just how well he could read her and give her what she wanted, sometimes before she even knew what those were herself. The thing against the wall she tried to memorise in detail, she _needed_ to have that in her archive for lonelier nights when Jon the sex-god was on duty elsewhere.

Her hair was still wet, it would probably take another hour to dry. She had more coffee, Jon had insisted on making them some kind of food so as to not get hangry and she was hanging out in the living room with Ghost.

 

And there were books _everywhere._

 

It was more like books with a room than a room with books. The shelves were overstacked, built around the TV and piled beneath the windows, and with a few exceptions they were sorted by colour. It was kind of a wonder that Ghost hadn’t torn them down, but she got the feeling that he was more clever than other dogs.

The Hamlet Jon had been reading yesterday still lay open on the table, edges worn, sections underlined, notes in the margins. Wasn’t it kind of sacrilege to treat it like that? She couldn’t even fold dog ears in hers... But he really must have read it a whole lot of times, and on the current page there was a highlighted passage that caught her eye:

“...in my heart there was a kind of fighting

That would not let me sleep."

She had to smile. He’d never _really_ grown out of his brooding, had he? He was just better at hiding it now. 

 

“Just out of curiosity, how many times _have_ you actually read Hamlet?” Jon appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands with a kitchen towel and reflected for a moment.

 

“Completely? Maybe twelve. But I keep going back to specific bits.”

 

“Hm.” She leaned back in the sofa and scratched Ghost behind the ear and he pushed his nose into her chest. “What bits?”

 

“That’s classified.” He’d answered without missing a beat, smiling that calm smile of his. “Judging me yet?” A small sigh escaped her.

 

“Well yes.”

 

But he just chuckled and disappeared into the kitchen again, Ghost abandoning her and sauntering after him.

 

Sitting there on the grey sofa with Soundgarden playing in the other room and hearing him go about his business, it was like she’d been granted a tiny glimpse into his life. It felt intimate and private, near domestic.

In a strange way it was as though she’d always known this place, like she’d been gone a long time and now she was back and things were how they ought to be. But then again, it was Jon, and she _had_ known him for a long time.

It was all very odd, but the good kind.

 

She hadn’t picked up her phone since last night so she decided that it was probably for the better if she checked it now. Being someone who was usually glued to it, it was weird that she’d not given it a single thought all day.

A text from Arya wanting to meet up again soon, another from Robb wondering how school was going and if she was coming to the family dinner next sunday. (She said she would and that she missed him dearly).

She sent Jon a friend request on facebook, then all her interest in social media was lost and the phone was left on the coffee table.

 

How long had they lived this close by without their paths crossing even once? She’d come back from King’s Landing a couple of years ago and apart from a short stay with her parents, she’d lived just 20 minutes away from here since then. Had he been here all along? How could people live parallel lives like that and never run into each other?

Her thoughts were interrupted when her lap was once more covered in white fluff and two clear blue eyes demanded her attention.

 

*

 

They were sitting by the kitchen table, clock newly stricken 2 PM, eating pasta with mushrooms and Ghost laying heavy on their feet. Sunlight trickled in through the open window and it struck her once again just how handsome Jon really was, especially with a few locks of hair falling down over his glasses.

She rested her chin in her hand, looking at him as he gazed out at nothing in particular, seemingly lost in thought. A silent minute passed by where neither moved much.

 

“What’s up buttercup?” He snapped back to reality and turned his face back to her but averted his eyes again when he saw the way she was looking at him.

 

_Shy._

 

“Nothing much really.” He made an attempt at brushing the hair out of his face but it didn’t go very well and she decided that he was very sweet.

 

“You know, it’s strange. You’re so cute and really awesome in bed, how do you not have a girlfriend?” She leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice. “Is there something you haven't told me? Like, some really weird stuff?”

 

“I, eh-” He was clearly a bit embarrassed, blushing adorably. “-I don’t think so? I mean, I guess I just don’t usually like people that much. I probably have as many skeletons in my closet as anyone.” Sansas eyes gleamed with curiosity.

 

“But you _do_ have some… How about this: Tell me a secret and I’ll trade you one.” He shrugged, still blushing slightly.

 

“I don’t know if mine are any fun, but okay, and I’m counting on this staying between us.” Jon leaned back in his seat and contemplated for a while. "And you start."

 

“Yeah alright.” But she was still leaning in, resting her elbows on the table as she thought for a moment. "So I once ghosted a guy because he didn’t like Star Wars.” He blinked at her.

 

“You what?”

 

“Yeah, such a dealbreaker, am I right?” She eyed him suspiciously and he took his glasses off, ran a hand over his face trying to hide a chuckle, failing miserably. “What’s your take on it?”

 

“On Star Wars?” His shoulders were shaking as he tried to keep a level voice.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Sansa, why are you like this?”

 

“Like _what?”_

 

“Like such an incredible _nerd.”_ She threw her hair back dramatically.

 

“Stop avoiding the question! I demand an answer.” He put his glasses back on and took a deep breath, and as cute as he was when he was awkward she liked it better when he was laughing.

 

“I like them just fine, but only the old ones.” She drank some water, almost failing because of the width of her smile.

 

“I’ll take it. Your turn.”

 

“No wait, did you really ghost him _just_ because of that?” She shrugged.

 

“Mostly, perhaps I’ll tell you about it sometime. Now _spill.”_ And the mischievous spark in her eyes returned.

 

“Oh yeah.” He leaned back in his chair again, still grinning. “Well, I’m in a complicated relationship with peaches.” Sansa furrowed her brows.

 

_“What does that even mean?”_

 

“I mean I might not have skeletons in my closet, but look in the cupboard over there.”

 

“You’re serious?” And when she’d gotten up and opened it there was literally a shelf full of canned peaches in there, but no matter how much as she raked her mind, she had no memory of him liking them at all. Everybody knew that she loved lemon cakes, but now that she thought about it she realized that she knew very little about what Jon liked. A small twitch of guilt strained her chest at that, she bet both Robb and Arya would have known about this. “You really are very sweet, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and he shot her a small smile.

 

“I still feel as though your ghosting thing was definitely weirder.”

 

“Maybe... Guess we all have an obsession, even if I don’t have a cupboard full of something.”

 

“So what’s yours?” She winked at him.

 

“That’s classified.” _Right now, it’s this._

 

She closed the door and walked over to stand behind him, undid the knot of his hair and combed it through her fingers a couple of times before she tied it back up properly. Leaning his head back into her chest he closed his eyes, and she kissed him upside down.

 

“Hey.” Resting her forehead softly against his she wrapped her arms around him and heard Ghost shift beneath the table, and there it was again, that very intimate and familiar feeling. “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?”

 

“Saturday.”

 

“Hm.” She kissed him again. “Nervous?” He nodded slightly.

 

“A little. You’re already driving me crazy.” She bit his lower lip but chuckled all the same.

 

“You’re cheeky.”

 

“And you’re a peach.” The way he said it made her blush a little, but the way he looked at her made her blush _a lot._


End file.
